The Blooming of Alex
Part II – Whispers of Flies
Alex walked.
He didn't know how long—minutes, hours, maybe longer. Time bled strangely in the forest, stretching thin like rotting fabric. The sky hadn't shifted. Always the same green haze, always the spores drifting, always that sweetness clinging to his tongue.
The laughter had stopped. That was almost worse.
Now it was the buzzing that followed him.
Soft at first, like a fly trapped behind glass. Then louder, nearer. Sometimes it was in the trees. Sometimes it was in his ears. Sometimes… it was in his head.
He slapped his skull so hard his vision flared white. Nothing. Just the endless drone, rising and falling like the tide.
"Shut up," he muttered through clenched teeth. "Shut up, shut up—"
The buzzing quieted. For a moment, Alex thought it was gone. He exhaled a shaky laugh. Relief.
Then—
"Beloved."
The voice came from inside his skull this time, buzzing along with the flies, each syllable wriggling through his thoughts.
He screamed and stumbled forward, tripping over roots slick with moss and slime. He hit the ground hard, palms sinking into mud that clung like glue. The stench hit him instantly—sweet rot, sharp and cloying.
When he pushed himself up, he froze.
In front of him stretched a pool of water.
Or at least—it looked like water at first.
Its surface was too still. The liquid was thick, sluggish, the color of swamp moss. Flies skated across it, their wings humming. Alex crept closer, his breath shallow, his stomach twisting with hunger and nausea at once.
He looked down.
And his reflection looked back.
But it wasn't him.
The face staring up was swollen. Skin bloated and cracked, mottled with dark patches like rot. One eye sagged, half-melted, while the other bulged too large, veins spreading like roots beneath it. His lips had split into a wide, permanent smile, and when it grinned, black fluid leaked between jagged teeth.
Alex jerked back, shaking his head. "No. That's not me. That's not—"
The reflection didn't vanish. It moved. Its fat, swollen hand pressed against the surface of the water from beneath, as if it wanted to climb out. Flies erupted from its mouth in a sudden buzzing swarm, rising from the pool in a black cloud.
Alex scrambled away, gagging as the insects swirled around him, landing in his hair, crawling across his skin.
"Stop—STOP—!" he shouted, swiping at himself. He slapped his arm—and winced.
His flesh gave under the impact, softer than it should be. He pulled back his sleeve, and his stomach dropped.
The skin was pale. Too pale. And beneath it, faint bulges shifted.
Like something alive.
They moved when he did.
For a long moment, Alex just stared. His throat tightened. His mind fought to deny it, to scream that it wasn't real.
Then, from somewhere beyond the trees, the deep chuckle came again.
Warm. Familiar. Terrifying.
And Alex knew he was being watched.
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